


The Shadow

by HeartOfStars



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Luke and Leia Switched, Gen, Gift Fic, Luke Organa, Prince Luke, but for now here it is, could possibly be more chapters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-09
Updated: 2020-08-09
Packaged: 2021-03-06 05:20:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,961
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25798063
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HeartOfStars/pseuds/HeartOfStars
Summary: Prince Luke Organa has just been appointed to the Senate in place of his father, Bail Organa, and a celebration is, quite naturally, thrown in his honor. But neither Bail Organa or his son expected Darth Vader to show up.
Relationships: Luke Skywalker & Darth Vader
Comments: 17
Kudos: 205





	The Shadow

**Author's Note:**

  * For [prayforpiett](https://archiveofourown.org/users/prayforpiett/gifts).



> Happy birthday!!!!!! I got this in kind of late, but I hope you like it :) We discussed this concept a couple days ago, and I just knew you'd love a fic with this premise. Hope you enjoy!

Since the beginning of the Empire, there had been very few causes for celebration anywhere in the galaxy, but least of all on Alderaan. It was an open secret that Bail Organa had no love for the Empire; despite an outward show of obedience, he had been a supporter of the Republic and the Jedi, and though he had remained in the Senate, many suspected that he was helping the Rebellion in secret. Bail’s wife, Queen Breha, tried to appear impartial; but behind closed doors, as the saying went, she campaigned against the Empire as well. The Empire knew the Organas were supporters of the Rebellion; and this was why they had stationed a garrison on the planet, to keep a careful watch on the Senator’s doings. 

But one day, fifteen years after the fall of the Republic, there was a surprising cause for celebration, after all: Organa’s son, Prince Luke, was officially taking his father’s place as Senator of Alderaan. 

For the first time in fifteen years, the people of Alderaan could put aside their troubles. Blue and white decorated every home, every building, every lamppost in every street; for the sake of the prince, pride had been returned to its people. Everyone who could attend was bursting at the seams with excitement; and everyone who could not would watch the celebration live. Prince Luke was a much-admired figure; and every person on the entire planet was looking forward to the date of the party with much excitement. 

Except for the prince himself. 

The fifteen-year-old boy sat in his bedroom, looking out glumly at the sunset. He’d never had much of a head for politics. He was good at it, after so many years of training, but it was so exhausting. What he really preferred to do was jump in a ship and go on a joyride across the city, or tinker with droids, or find a tree to scale and sit there all day; those activities had been his sanctuary. 

What was his life going to be like now that _he_ was the Senator? He’d lose all his freedom.

But beyond that...what was _tonight_ going to be like? 

There would be _thousands_ of people there. Hundreds of thousands of people, from all over the planet, maybe even the galaxy, people who would want to meet him, talk to him, shake his head, find out his policies, which were nonexistent…

And then, as if that wasn’t bad enough, there would be cameras all over. Capturing his every mood and change of expression; capturing his every weakness, for the entire galaxy to see. 

There was a knock on the door, and Luke turned around quickly, half expecting it to be some sort of dignitary here to meet him already. 

It was his father. 

Luke’s shoulders dropped in relief, and he smiled. 

“Oh, Luke,” Bail Organa said, coming closer to have a look at him. He put his hands on Luke’s shoulders, ran his hands down the sleeves, down the handsome white and blue uniform...then stepped back, grinning broadly. “You look magnificent.” 

Luke looked down at the outfit, at the ruffles on his sleeves, at the gold buttons up the front of his jacket, at the color that was almost too tight. 

He snorted. “I look ridiculous.” 

Bail laughed softly. 

“I know I can never make you fully a politician,” he said. “It would be suicide to try. But maybe that’s a good thing.” Gently, he brushed a lock of hair out of Luke’s face. “You’re too good for politics.” 

“So are you,” Luke said, offended that his father would even dare to suggest the opposite. “But you’re good at it anyway.” 

Bail raised his eyebrows. 

“So are you,” he said. 

Luke should have laughed at that; but it was too bitter a reminder of what he was going to have to do. He deflated. 

“I don’t know,” he said, his voice small. “I’m not good at it--or if I am, what does that mean for me? What am I going to have to do? Father, I--” His voice cracked, and he looked down. “I’m not _ready.”_

There was a tear on the floor; the droids would have to get to that, he thought absent-mindedly. The carpeting in his rooms was starting to get old…

Gentle, ever so gentle fingers under his chin, and his head was lifted up. Luke looked into his father’s eyes, so full of sadness. 

“Of course you are, Luke,” Bail said quietly. “Of course you are. Don’t even doubt that for a moment. Every time you speak, you hold the room in sway; you’re an incredible speaker. Not a politician; you’d need too hard a heart for that. But you are an incredible _speaker._ You could persuade anyone to do anything. As much as you doubt yourself, you were born for this.” 

“No, I wasn’t,” Luke said with a scowl. He’d known he was adopted for certain since the age of eight, and Bail and Breha regularly assured him they loved him even more than they would have loved any child of their own; but sometimes the reminder that he wasn’t _really_ an Organa hurt. “I’m your son, but...politics isn’t in my blood.” 

Something flashed through Bail’s eyes, something unrecognizable; and then, slowly, his hand slid down to rest firmly on Luke’s shoulder. 

“No,” Bail told him. “It is. Luke, I had wondered when I should tell you this, but I...I knew your mother.” 

Luke’s heart quickened. He had always wondered when his father would tell him something, anything about his real parents; and today, it seemed, was finally the day. 

“Yes,” he said carefully. “I figured you did--”

“What I mean,” Bail went on, “is that I _worked closely_ with your mother. During the Clone Wars--during the days of the Republic.” 

He paused, clearly to let that sink in...and suddenly Luke realized what he meant. Worked closely. The Republic. His father, until next week, was a Senator. He had been a Senator. That meant…

Luke gasped. 

“My mother was a Senator,” he said. 

Bail was smiling again, now, his eyes shining. 

“Of course,” he said. “But it gets better. Your mother was, quite specifically, Padme Amidala.” 

_Padme Amidala._ Luke knew her name; everyone knew her name. She had been the greatest champion of justice, a defender of truth and peace and everything the Republic stood for...and it was suspected by many on Alderaan that the Emperor himself had murdered her, to keep her powerful words from threatening his new regime. 

And she...she was Luke’s…

“She was my mother?” Luke whispered. 

Bail simply nodded. 

This was everything he’d dreamed of--this was _why_ he was a politician! If he was _her son--_

Luke had known there was something special about him. He’d known it. 

But only now did he understand why. 

Happy tears in his eyes, Luke threw his arms around his father, and buried his face in his chest. Quickly, Bail dropped the hand from his shoulder and hugged him back. 

“Thank you, Father,” Luke said. “Thank you.” 

Bail held him for another moment, then pushed him back--took a look at him, wiped a stray tear from Luke’s cheek. 

“Do you feel better?” he asked. 

“Yes,” Luke said; he was grinning now. “Are the guests here?”

“Ready and waiting,” Bail said, putting an arm around Luke; Luke leaned into the contact slightly, rested his head on his father’s shoulder. “We’ll greet them together.” 

  
  


Parties were exhausting. 

Luke and his father had greeted the guests together; he’d given a short speech, and had thought of Padme Amidala the entire time; then the party had started. But Bail was off doing something else, and for three hours, Luke had been left to fend for himself. Multiple people had wanted to meet him, as he’d feared; he’d been asked things, and had had to come up with answers he never thought he’d have to give. But most of the time, he was just talked to, by people who had wanted to meet him his whole life--and the attention that everyone was giving him was overwhelming. 

Around 2100 standard time, Luke managed to escape a talk with several young women who were clearly interested in him, and had talked his ear off for almost half an hour; he gave them an excuse, something about needing a drink, then escaped to a small corner of the great hall, where no one could sneak up on him. 

Across the hall, his father looked at him, concern in his eyes. Forcing a smile, Luke gave him a small wave; Bail smiled back and returned to his business. He, clearly, thought the evening was a success. 

And perhaps it was. Hopefully everyone saw Luke as the perfect person to succeed his father in the Senate, the perfect person to rule Alderaan someday; he’d tried his best to put on that appearance. But he was only fifteen, and he was getting very dizzy and very tired, and all he _wanted_ at the moment was to tinker with some ships, and then crash for ten hours straight. 

Luke leaned against a pillar, trying to catch his breath, calm himself. He needed a _break_ from all this, and he just hoped no one would come to talk to him…

Across the room, someone met his eye. Luke made himself look up. 

Governor Tarkin. Uh-oh. 

Luke looked away, hoping he hadn’t officially been spotted; but then the Imperial governor started making his way across the room toward him. 

_That’s my exit,_ Luke thought. He edged behind the pillar toward the wall, ducked under a serving tray--

There was a giggle in the distance. Those _girls_ again. What did they want with him? They were several years older, and he didn’t think anyone would consider him of the courting age yet--but then, he was a prince, he reasoned. Anything could happen. 

Moving quickly out of the way, Luke darted out of their reach and slipped out the door just as it was being opened by a waiter. His small size had come in handy for one thing: he was very, very skilled at avoidance. He’d ducked his way out of trouble spots before; he could get out of this one. 

Luke could have stopped there, in the empty hallway just outside the ballroom, but someone might come out any minute, someone who’d seen him leave; and it was just _too stuffy_ in here. His collar was much too tight, and he felt like he could barely breathe. 

He needed some air. 

Luke was staggering along through the corridor as fast as he could go, his boots echoing against the marble tile; the door was somewhere here, he knew. Somewhere. He’d been down this way before--it had made a good getaway when stealing food from the kitchen at a younger age--and he searched along the wall until he found the door handle and opened it, and stepped outside. 

Luke stopped, slumping against the door as it closed; but his airway was still too tight. Who had let someone make clothes this uncomfortable? They should be fired, he thought in his half-dead brain as his fingers pulled at his collar, feverishly searching until he’d found the correct button and--

Ahhhhhhh. 

Luke gasped in a desperate breath of cool air, and then another, and then _another._ At last. At last he was here, he was alone; and already, though he’d only been here a few moments, he could tell the fresh air was doing him good. Everything seemed to clear. His head, his eyes--he could see the bright, vibrant colors of the garden in the moonlight--his throat especially. 

Luke took a couple steps forward, spinning around giddily as he took in the sight of his favorite garden, so happy was he to be outside; and then he stopped. He closed his eyes, tipped his face towards the moon, and sighed. 

He was alone. 

A hand landed on his shoulder. 

Luke screamed on instinct--and immediately, a large hand was pressed over his mouth, and the hand on his shoulder jerked him backward against a...chest? If so, it felt strange. The person was wearing something odd, something was poking his ribs--

And a respirator breathing, in and out. In and out. Steady, merciless. 

_Darth Vader._ Luke had never met him in person, but he’d heard the breathing on every live recording of every Imperial celebration ever--he struggled more fiercely. 

“Hush,” rumbled a voice behind him, and the sensation vibrated through Luke’s back. He shuddered. “If you scream, I will simply kill the guards. I doubt you would want that on your conscience, little prince.” 

Luke did not. But what was Vader going to do, then? Kidnap him? Murder him? Did he not want him to become the Senator? There were thousands of reasons to capture or kill a prince, after all--

Abruptly, Luke was let go; then he was turned around, forcibly, to face his would-be captor. 

And now he was staring into the death mask itself. 

He almost screamed again, met with that horrifying image; but Vader’s hand tightened painfully on his arm, and Luke remembered what he’d said. 

No guards. 

He couldn’t let any guards die for him. 

His entire body shaking, Luke willed himself not to scream. He could find his way out of this, anyway. Somehow...surely…

But it was _Darth Vader._ There was no escape from him.

“W-what do you want with me?” Luke stammered, barely managing to keep his voice steady. “I d-didn’t see you at...at the party.” 

“I waited outside,” Vader said, his harsh, horrible voice seeming to rumble through the earth. Luke flinched. “I watched you from the corridor; and when you left the ballroom, I followed.”

Of course. He’d been so exhausted, so desperate for air he hadn’t even seen Vader. Though Luke didn’t understand how he could miss a man that huge. 

“It was, perhaps, a mistake on your part,” Vader continued; he took a step forward, and Luke stumbled back. “But I cannot say I did not wish for this to happen. I have been waiting to speak with you for a long time.”

Of all the terrifying things Vader could have picked to say, that was by far the _worst._ He had been waiting all night, watching Luke like a hawk; he probably would have found some way to corner him whether Luke had gone outside or not. _There is no escaping Darth Vader,_ Luke thought again. 

“W...why?” he asked, looking down; he couldn’t look into that awful mask, he just couldn’t. His voice shook fiercely, his _whole body_ was still shaking no matter how much he tried to stop. “What do...what do you--” He swallowed. “What do you _want_ with me?”

“To talk,” Vader said; and that was definitely not the response Luke had been expecting. Surely he was here to capture him? To kill him? To...to _torture_ him? 

Unless by “talk,” he meant “get information.” 

But Luke didn’t know anything! He wasn’t even involved with the Rebellion! 

“At ease, Your Highness,” Vader said. “I do not intend to interrogate you.” 

Luke flinched again. Vader had _read his mind._

Furious, he was finally able to look up and look at the death mask--he made himself do it, because he wanted Vader to know he _couldn’t do that._

“Stop it,” he snapped. “Stop reading my mind!” 

“Then learn to shield,” came the unexpected reply. 

_Shield?_ What in the galaxy was shielding? Did he mean...did he mean like _Jedi_ used to do? There were no Jedi! And he surely couldn’t think Luke was--

“You are,” Vader said. 

Luke’s mouth fell open.

He was...what? A Jedi? But Luke didn’t have the Force! Padme Amidala certainly hadn’t had the Force, he knew that...but maybe it wasn’t hereditary…

And _he didn’t have it, anyway!_

“You’re wrong,” he said, willing his voice not to shake, which was hard when staring up into a mask that looked like a skeleton’s face. “I’m not a _Jedi,_ I’m a politician.” He’d never been prouder to say the words. “I am Bail Organa’s son, and I do not have the Force.” 

Suddenly a heavy, heavy hand was gripping his shoulder, so tight that Luke almost cried out. His father did that to him a thousand times a day, but _he_ was gentle about it. This was absolutely brutal. 

And beyond that, the mask was now right in his face. 

“We both know,” Vader snarled, sounding positively _furious,_ “that you are NOT Organa’s son.” 

That had made him angry. For some reason that had made him terribly angry, but Luke couldn’t guess--he didn’t know what he’d done to make Vader angry, and now he was going to kill him--

Immediately, the hand loosened, and Vader drew back. 

“Right,” Luke gasped, unable to look at him again. “Right, I know that. Not biologically, but, uh. I am. His son. I mean, I was adopted, I don’t know who my father is.” 

“Your father,” Vader echoed, his voice sounding softer than Luke had ever heard it...and that was _worse._ As if he was trying to make it sound...personal. He took another step forward, and Luke took several more steps back. “What about...your mother?”

Fury flashed through Luke instantly. 

What could _Vader_ know about his _mother?_

“I--I know of her,” he stammered. “But I’m not telling you.” 

What if Vader used that against him? Luke didn’t know how that would happen. But he knew Vader was capable of anything terrible, and nothing good. 

“Indeed,” Vader said, his voice still horribly soft. He took yet _another_ step forward, and Luke was forced to move back again. “That is fortunate, because I do.” 

Luke’s blood froze. 

How did--how did _Vader_ know his mother? How could he? 

_He probably killed her,_ Luke mused bitterly, and wrapped his arms around himself as the atmosphere grew a bit colder. 

“Well, then,” he said, lifting his chin. “I can say it. I’m the son of Padme Amidala.”

There was a moment’s silence, punctuated only by the steady rhythm of Vader’s respirator, and Luke’s own ragged breathing. 

“Yes,” Vader said at last. “You are.” 

“And I am _not a Jedi,”_ Luke said again. “I’m not!” 

Vader took another step forward. Luke stepped back, and then back again-- _thud._ He’d bumped into the large tree, and he tried to look for a way to dart to the side; but Vader almost filled his entire vision, he was too large, too powerful. 

There would be no escape. Literally. 

There was nowhere to go. 

Luke scrunched himself up against the tree, as small as he could get, trying to shrink away from Vader. 

It didn’t work. A hand seized his face roughly, and forced Luke to look up. 

That was again something that his father did, but it wasn’t _intrusive,_ like this. Vader seemed to have no conception of personal space. 

“You _are,”_ Vader said again. “At least, you are Force-sensitive.” 

“How do you know?” Luke asked. His words were slightly garbled, with that hold on him, but he figured Vader knew what he was asking anyway. 

He hoped. 

In response, Vader gripped his jaw tighter and leaned closer; Luke tried to pull away, but there was no escaping that horrible death mask, and now he was staring _right into it,_ into the lenses, and he couldn’t get away--he could barely think, could barely breathe--

“Because I _know your father,”_ Vader hissed. “Your _true_ father.” 

Luke almost fainted. 

_Know,_ present tense. His...his father was alive. 

If Vader was to be believed. He didn’t know. But something...something seemed to tell him Vader was right…

Luke couldn’t respond to that. He couldn’t say anything. He couldn’t, he couldn’t--

He just wanted to get out of here. 

He wanted to run to Bail, _his father,_ and bury his face in his chest and pretend this had all been a bad dream…

“Luke!” 

_Father._

Bail Organa was somewhere near; he was looking for him, Luke realized with hope. 

But Vader did not let him go. He kept holding onto his face with the durasteel fingers that could have crushed his jaw, and then Luke wondered--wondered if Vader wanted to take Luke with him at any cost...that he did not want him to become a Senator…

Wondered if he would kill him, if Bail was so near. 

There was a feeling in the air-- _in the Force--_ a feeling of snakelike intent, a presence coiling around him--

Luke squeezed his eyes shut. He could barely see anything else around the Sith Lord’s bulk; he did not want the last thing he saw to be Darth Vader. He waited...waited for the death blow…

And then the hand was gone from his face. 

Luke blinked his eyes open, wondering if that was because Vader had gone from his lightsaber; but no. The man was standing there, now five feet away. 

Luke could have escaped, if he’d wanted to. But he felt transfixed. 

“I know who your father is,” Vader told him. “I know why you are so strong in the Force.” 

“I…” Luke’s voice came out in a croak. “I don’t believe you.” 

“But you do, Luke.” Luke shuddered at the use of his name in that dark voice. “I can sense it.”

Luke said nothing. He just wished his father would get there. 

“I will leave you now,” Vader said, and it sounded like a proclamation. “But I will find you again. And in that day, you will have no choice but to believe me.” 

That was a threat. 

A _promise._

Luke only stared up at Vader, his mouth open, his limbs trembling; he couldn’t say anything. He couldn’t think. 

He was Padme Amidala’s son, yet Vader had stolen all his words. 

Luke blinked. He looked down at the ground, trying to catch his breath. Then, he looked back up. 

Vader was gone. 

Luke flinched in surprise, his head turning round and round, searching for him; he could have gone anywhere. Such a giant of a man, he couldn’t have just disappeared--he must be in the shadows--

“Luke!” 

Luke spun--and there was his father. 

Bail had him in a hug before he could speak. Luke didn’t resist, just let himself sink into the embrace. Let himself be comforted. 

“Vader was--Vader was here,” he sobbed into his father’s jacket. “He was here--”

“We know, Luke.” A gentle hand stroked his hair; the motion was soothing, but not enough to wash away the tension of the last few minutes. “I did not clear his presence here. I did not know of it until recently, and I came as fast as I could.” He pulled Luke back to look at him, cupped Luke’s face in his hands--it reminded him of Vader gripping his face, and Luke shuddered. “Did he hurt you?”

“N-no,” Luke said. “He...he didn’t hurt me.”

It was a lie, of course. 

But Bail, at least, could not sense his thoughts. 

“That’s good.” His father pulled him back into another hug. “That’s _very_ good.” 

Luke leaned into the embrace again, but it was no comfort this time; it was no comfort at all. He was Force-sensitive, his father might be alive...and Vader had sworn to return. He was in danger, they would _all_ be in danger. Because even if Vader had left Alderaan already, Luke knew that the Sith Lord had promised to return. And he knew what that meant. It meant that there was nowhere he could go, no place he could stay, no crevice he could hide in, where Darth Vader could not find him.


End file.
